


The Night Was Nothing Special

by tiredseth



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Smoking, like those kids always seem to be doing, something i wrote when i was feeling down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredseth/pseuds/tiredseth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four person group of the goth kids were pretty boring most of the time, tonight wasn't any different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Was Nothing Special

It was a night, nothing special about it. It didn’t consist of sudden realizations of purpose or epiphanies involving self-reflection or even wacky hijinks kids seem to get into when left alone too long. It was comforting, a complacent sense of comfort. 

Pete and Michael were at the Village Inn waiting for Henrietta and Firkle to arrive. As per the usual, they were sipping coffee and allowing their cigarette smoke to cloud the stale air of the diner. The normal scent of breakfast foods was slowing being replaced with the aroma of cheap smokes and shitty coffee, mingling together in the air, almost informally claiming this booth as their own by making it more unappealing to the general populace. Their presence there was a nuisance to everyone; in a way, this only encouraged them more. Their simply being there was a small act of rebellion against the people of this town, and in nights where they were filled with delusions of grandeur, it was an act of rebellion against the whole of society itself. They were making a statement by just existing in that moment in that place in that time. 

Tonight was not one of those night though. The two simply sat together watching their vapors swirling into one another making the two separate clouds indistinguishable from one another. The fluorescent lighting hummed lightly, and distant clattering of dishes became muddled white noise, and they took solace in each other's silence. Michael brought the cigarette up to his lips for another drag, long and deep, making it a point to exhale slowly as to better match his pacing with Pete's. 

Their posture gradually became sloppier and their shoulders glided onto one another's. Pete's head drooped onto Michael's shoulder as Michael's head rested upon Pete's. When the taller goth expelled the smoke it passed through his wind chapped lips past the fringe of the other boy's bangs, making them move slightly. Pete replicated the same process, his smoke rising into the other boy's face. Neither minded this. In this moment they just were, and it was comfortable.

The jostling of the bells crudely tied to the door pierced through the obscure sounds, both moving their gaze to the incoming customers. Henrietta walked into the diner with unkempt hair and a sour expression, inspecting closer, the netting on her dress was torn and clumsily patched. Firkle followed suit with slumped posture and hand delved deep into his pockets, directing his gaze only at the floor. The curly haired boy weakly raised the hand holding his cigarette and gave an unenthusiastic wave before taking a final drag down to the filter. The two headed towards the tranquil pair already seated and slid into the booth. 

Henrietta began a tirade of curses complete with animated hand gestures over the newest source of annoyance caused by her mother. The waitress brought out two new cups, not bothering to ask what they wanted to order as she gave up on that battle long ago. Topping off all four cups, she walked away and everyone began preparing the drink to their suitable tastes. Firkle was the simplest, taking it black. Michael would add a level of sugar dependent on his mood, the less sugar the fowler the mood; he settled for two spoonfuls this time. Henrietta favored two creams and one sugar to give it a more mild taste without ruining the authenticity of the coffee itself. Pete rarely measured what he poured into his cup but ultimately it was far too sweet by the other goth's standards. After each were content with the flavors in their mug, Henrietta continued more calmly now after a few sips of coffee. 

The annoyance still lingered in her tone but the actions alongside the speech was no longer erratic. Michael and Pete settled back into their previous positions, brimming with the warmth of fresh coffee and the burning of too many cigarettes in their throats. Henrietta steered the conversation throughout the night, the remaining three occasionally injecting a comment or sharing a laugh over her exaggerations. Before long, the night had grown late and to avoid the strict hands of their parents the group departed in the pairs they arrived in. 

The two were sitting in the tall goth's car in the parking lot of a park. Michael released his grip on the steering wheel and lackadaisically turned on the radio. The red-haired boy stared emptily out the window at the rustling trees, hand resting on his chin. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke fills the car and Pete rolled his eyes. What a hypocrite, no one was allowed to smoke in his car because he didn't want his parents finding out. They sit like that for a while, looking at the playground, swings moving slightly in the breeze, leaves falling onto the jungle gym. It was almost a nice scene if not for the horror movie implications that come alongside an abandoned park; this didn't bother either of them much. 

Pete's other hand was resting on the console. He felt a warm presence on top of it, smooth and lightly tracing his own fingers. A small smile fell on his lips but his eyes remained dreamy and black, gazing out the window. He moved his hand to interlace his fingers with the other boy's. The tall goth rubbed circles with his thumb onto the smaller goth's hand. It was nice. 

"Hey, Pete" the curly haired goth spoke up, causing the red haired boy to look at him only to be greeted with Michael blowing smoking in his face. 

"Don't be an asshole" Pete said half-heartedly with a light smile on his face, waving away the vapor surrounding him. They went back to silence, the only sound being the radio, too quiet to make out any lyrics. 

Eventually, it was time to return home. They drove back into town, taking a few detours so they could smoke a few more cigarettes before turning in. God, they really did smoke too much; both of them knew this but neither thought it was important enough to bring it up. They all decided long ago it didn’t make much difference outside of their dwindling allowances. Michael pulled up to the curb of Pete's house and put the car into park. The smaller boy gathered his things, slipping them into his pockets. He looked at the other boy and wordlessly signaled he was about to make his leave. Michael leaned over the console a pressed a chaste kiss on the other boy's lips. They parted with the same small smiles and far-off expressions. 

"'Night". 

 

"'Night", Pete said before exiting the car and waving the tall goth goodbye. After he pulled away, Pete made his way up the driveway into his house, up the stairs into his room, to his bed on top of the covers. The small smile had yet to fade and he gazed out the window.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i can't write


End file.
